MYFL | Chapter 3.8

The emotions that had been teetering on the edge of his throat all weekend came surging up, shaking his entire body.

“It’s not… I, hhh, it’s not… hic…”

No. No, this isn’t happening.

But the tears had already started falling.

They ran down his cheeks, dripping past his trembling chin.

Panicked, Beomchan clumsily covered his face with both hands.

This wasn’t how he wanted to look in front of Seungjae.

“…Are you crying?”

Seungjae sounded caught off guard. Then, before Beomchan could react, he stepped out from behind the counter.

Through the gaps between his fingers, Beomchan saw Seungjae coming closer. He flinched and jerked away.

“Beomchan.”

“I—I’m sorry, I’m sorry….”

Leaving behind Seungjae’s voice calling his name, Beomchan bolted out of the café.

Through his blurry vision, he barely registered Yeonji approaching.

He managed only a small nod before slipping into the building.

Leaning against the cold marble wall, he heaved out a shaky breath.

The sound of his own sobs echoed in the narrow space—loud and ugly.

And yet, the tears wouldn’t stop.

Wouldn’t stop.

It’s over. Everything’s ruined.

⋆˚🐾˖°

Joo Seungjae, left alone, let out a long sigh. Beomchan had slammed the heavy glass door so hard that it continued to rattle noisily even after he had left, only coming to a stop after a few moments.

The café quickly fell silent. Through the glass window, Seungjae could see Beomchan’s figure growing distant. He watched him intently, then rubbed his forehead with his fingertips, groaning. The stress seemed to be giving him a headache.

Suddenly, he recalled a conversation he had with Yeonji last week. Yeonji had mentioned a restaurant she visited with her boyfriend, which happened to be an old barbecue place Beomchan had once taken him to. Without much thought, he had said, ‘Yeah, it’s good there.’ Yeonji, quick to catch on, had asked if he went there with Beomchan, and when he nodded without denying it, she had responded.

― Are you just going to keep things like this with that master?

― What do you mean?

― It’s like giving false hope. You know how he feels, yet you accept everything.

― Don’t overreact just because we had a meal together.

― You don’t even plan to try. Honestly, you’re the worst, oppa.

Even though she was blaming him, he wasn’t angry. It was something he heard often, and he was aware of it himself. Avoiding facing the truth because it was uncomfortable, yet unable to make a clean break.

His evasive nature hadn’t changed much over the years. He was inherently like this, and Beomchan probably knew it too.

That’s why today’s confession was even more baffling. He thought someone who knew him would choose to swallow their feelings until the end.

Beomchan wasn’t the first to recklessly nurture feelings and charge at him. There was even someone who had clung to his clothes, crying and wailing on the street without shame.

It was exhausting. He found it annoying and tiresome. He didn’t feel sorry because he never asked them to like him. In fact, he thought he was the pitiful one.

He had only shown the basic human decency one should, but they interpreted and distorted it as they pleased, blaming him for their own issues. He felt unfortunate to have gotten involved with such foolish people. That was his sentiment.

Yet this time, he felt unmistakably like the bad guy. Why was he so bothered by one tearful face? It felt like he had done something wrong to a child.

But wasn’t it strange to preemptively tell someone who hadn’t even confessed that he wouldn’t accept their feelings? He tried to rationalize it internally, but it didn’t make him feel any better.

Seungjae clasped his hands together, habitually pressing and squeezing his knuckles, then gently twisted the ring on his left hand.

― Your husband must be busy, teacher.

He recalled something Beomchan had said to him before. Beomchan seemed to think he was asking naturally, but it was obvious he was fishing for information, which Seungjae found amusing. What had he replied? Had he asked if Beomchan was curious?

― What does your husband do, teacher?

Even the words he had said earlier. He had pretended something existed when it didn’t, so there was no way he could answer the question. Beomchan must have been curious. Although he had scolded Beomchan for crossing the line, he could imagine how much Beomchan had held back before blurting it out.

Was it too much to hide this?

Not taking off the ring, in other words, not mentioning the divorce, was his way of drawing a line with Beomchan and also a means of imposing restrictions on himself.

Honestly, he hadn’t expected Beomchan’s feelings to last this long. He knew it was cowardly to use ignorance as an excuse, but it didn’t make sense to him.

Beomchan knew him as someone with a child and, albeit mistakenly, a spouse. He wasn’t someone worth enduring such awkwardness for.

He thought it was just a fleeting crush from childhood. And he believed that feeling was more about Beomchan’s nostalgia for his younger self than any romantic interest in him.

After being stuck in this neighborhood and inevitably encountering each other daily, he had thought a day like this might come. Yet, facing Beomchan’s hurt expression in reality, he was caught off guard and couldn’t even tie up the loose ends, despite having mentally prepared for it.

So what should he have done?

Was he supposed to preemptively strike against someone who was clumsy at hiding their feelings—someone who was afraid of taking even one step closer and only circled around?

Seungjae’s hand reached for the drawer inside the counter. He hurriedly opened the first aid kit and took out a headache pill. Swallowing it without water, he felt the uncomfortable sensation of it sliding down his throat.

⋆˚🐾˖°

The sound of coffee beans being ground drowned out the café music and the chatter of people, drilling into my ears. After finely grinding the beans in the portafilter, I pressed them flat with a tamper and secured it into the espresso machine. While the shot was being extracted, I grabbed a takeaway cup and filled it with ice and water. The motion of pouring the extracted espresso and putting on the lid was mechanical.

“One iced Americano is ready for you.”

I placed the cup, along with a holder, on the pickup counter, and a man who had been waiting nearby approached. Even after grabbing his coffee, he hesitated to leave. Then, with a sheepish expression, he spoke up.

Seungjae already knew what he was going to say.

“Uh, the straw…”

“The straws are over there, please help yourself.”

Seungjae forced a smile and gestured to one side of the counter with his palm. It was curious how the man asked the same thing every time, even though he came by every couple of days.

The man’s hand slowly reached for a straw. Just then, a familiar voice called out.

“Dad!”

Woojoo entered the café, holding Beomchan’s hand. As soon as Seungjae confirmed the straw customer had left, he stepped out from behind the counter to greet Woojoo. He took Woojoo’s bag and, out of habit, asked if he had a good day—before finally glancing at Beomchan standing behind him.

“Want some coffee?”

Seungjae asked.

”…No.”

His lips drooped. Since the day they argued, Seungjae and Beomchan hadn’t had a proper conversation. They were both busy, but neither had made the first move to talk.

It wouldn’t have mattered if there was no issue between them—but that wasn’t the case. They had to face each other daily because of Woojoo, and each time, Beomchan wore that same gloomy expression.

Seungjae secretly hoped Beomchan would act as if nothing had happened. He thought it would get better in a day or two, but as the days dragged on, frustration started to creep in.

“I’m going to head out.”

“Oh, you’re leaving already?”

Normally, Beomchan would spend time with Woojoo until it was time to pick up the kids for the next class. But today, he seemed eager to leave, standing near the café door like he was itching to go. As soon as his business was done, he quickly turned to leave.

Yeonji, noticing Beomchan’s unusual behavior, asked him about it. But Beomchan simply nodded silently and started walking.

“Beomchan, wait a moment.”

Seungjae called out to him. Beomchan flinched and turned his head, looking at Seungjae with a sullen expression. It reminded Seungjae of the day Beomchan had run out of the café in tears.

Seungjae was the first to avert his gaze. Later. Let’s do it later. He wasn’t confident he could talk rationally to that dejected face right now.

“Never mind.”

Seungjae withdrew his words. Beomchan let out a small sigh and disappeared out of the café.

“…Dad.”

Woojoo fiddled with the strings of Seungjae’s apron with his tiny hands and called out.

“Yeah?”

“Did you have a fight with Master?”

Seungjae, momentarily flustered, shook his head exaggeratedly in denial.

“No, we didn’t fight. It’s not like that.”

“It doesn’t seem that way… It’s just like when Bomi fought with Cheonguk…”

Woojoo, still mumbling with suspicion, didn’t seem to have any intention of asking Seungjae again after he denied it once. He soon slipped out of Seungjae’s arms and headed to his designated table.

“You’re not going to drink this, right?”

Seungjae asked Yeonji, pointing to the coffee he had set aside for Beomchan. As expected, Yeonji shook her head, saying she didn’t drink decaf.

Seungjae took a sip himself, not really expecting Beomchan—who had been refusing coffee since their argument—to suddenly accept it today. He didn’t even know why he had prepared it beforehand.

“Still haven’t made up?” Yeonji whispered, making sure Woojoo couldn’t hear.

“There’s nothing to make up for.” Seungjae replied with a smile, but he felt a sense of dissonance in his own words.

“I shouldn’t have brought it up with the master.”

Yeonji’s voice was filled with regret. It was the same with Woojoo’s cautious behavior earlier.

Only then did Seungjae realize that the issue between him and Beomchan was affecting those around them.